


I choose you

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Foreshadowing, I tried to balance it, M/M, Some Fluff, Some angst, mount pelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I would never leave him, I would destroy myself before I would allow harm to come to him.<br/>It will be like this forever, Achilles is sure of it. He will fight for it. </p><p>if you make it out alright<br/>if you make it up for air<br/>I promise you, I won't go<br/>(I won't leave before)<br/>before the sun gets to rise</p>
            </blockquote>





	I choose you

_Patroclus_. His name is like a song, ascending into the very depths of Achilles' soul.

Patroclus is sleeping next to him in a shared cot with hardly enough room for two bodies that seem to go on growing even past the breaking off point. Hair the color of rich chesnuts and figs falls across his forehead as he breathes _in and out, in and out._ Let it always be like this, he thinks to himself. I want to wake up every morning and collect figs, tangle my fingers through thick hair, swim until we're gasping for air. _This_ and _this_ and _this._

"Patroclus," he whispers and the words catch in his throat as sleepy green eyes meet his own. He could see his entire future in those eyes.

Patroclus sits up and scrubs his face with graceful long fingers, they were positively sinful in the way they moved - in the smooth texture. An artists hands.

"I am here," Achilles whispers in the dark. The last light of day faded away hours ago but even in the darkness he would know him anywhere.

Patroclus smiles then and it's like a flower opening to bloom, slowly at first and then all at once. He loves so deeply that he aches.

"I missed you,"  Achilles beams at him, he could never resist that smile.

"I was here the entire time,"  Patroclus states. Perhaps that isn't what he meant.

"You were sleeping," Achilles tosses a fig back and forth in his hands as he watches Patroclus.

He doesn't know it yet but he's already the most important person in Achilles' life. Should anyone put a finger on Patroclus, he wouldn't hesitate to cut it off.

"I _was,_ yes,"  Patroclus says with a yawn.

"I went to see my mother," he says and Patroclus' jaw tightens hard enough to break. Thetis would love nothing more than to marry her son off to an acceptable partner, one that might not drive him closer and closer to death even though they don't know it yet.

"Is she well?,"  Patroclus folds and unfolds a worn brown blanket - taken shamelessly from Achilles' room when Patroclus had felt the pain of loss - when Thetis sent him away. He will never forgive her for as long as he lives.

"She worries. She calls me reckless," he states with a frown. It isn't fair.

 Patroclus sighs and pats the spot next to him, _let me fix this._

Achilles curls around Patroclus, fingers digging into his skin but he can't let go. If he lets go they will take him.

"Have I told you of Apollo? Of how his gift of foreseeing the future wasn't a gift but rather a curse?," Achilles shifts and traces a finger over skin kissed by the sun itself - _Patroclus._

"You have, tell me again,"  Patroclus liked it when he weaved stories of gods and men.

"Apollo found a beautiful priestess at the temple built in his honor. He made a deal with her - asked to see his future in exchange for a kiss. He gave her the gift of prophesy and in turn she saw fires burning in the city of Troy, libraries destroyed. She spat in his face, he made it so that no one would believe her,"  he kissed the inside of Patroclus' wrist as he spoke.

"I cannot see the future as he could. I am only half god but my mother...she speaks of my death. She cannot tell me how or why but I will not leave you. I will die with you,"  in the shadows Patroclus could see Achilles' head as he turned away. He did not like it when they spoke of death, would they be allowed together in the after life? He would rather die than go on living without Achilles. He could see no future without him.

"I do not wish for your death,"  Patroclus found his chest tightening at the very thought. _If you should die, take me with you._

"I do not wish to die. I want _this_ ," he nuzzled Patroclus' neck as he spoke. "And this," a whisper in Patroclus' ear - sending shivers down his spine. "All of this," he added as he pulled Patroclus' tunic over his head and trailed kisses over his chest, the side of his neck, the underside of his jaw and finally, his lips.

"I could ask for nothing more than all of this,"  he removed his own tunic and climbed on top of Patroclus. His skin was like the sun - burning from the inside out, bronzed fingers touching every inch of skin he could reach.

"I will be with you for as long as you have want of me,"  Patroclus was finding it hard to string words together - to form coherent sentences when Achilles rubbed against him in the most delicious way. _Don't leave me behind._

"I will always want you,"  Achilles voice was barely above a whisper, breath hot and heavy in Patroclus' ear.

It was there in the air between them - there was no need to voice the words out loud. _I have always loved you, if you die I will not live another day. I would look death itself in the face and I would not falter as his arrow pierced my skin. It would not hurt as much as losing you._

In the silence they clung to one another as if all of the world would rip them apart if they let go. Heated fingers in tangled hair, passionate kisses ending long enough to come up for air, hastily pressing and grinding until they both collapsed sticky and sated. _We will be like this always._

In the days and months that followed they spent many hours learning from Chiron - what herbs to administer to a deep wound; the sting of an arrow, how to stop the spread of infection. Achilles was half god, half mortal. It was to be expected that he would come across someone who would wish him harm.

The thought made Patroclus' stomach churn and he nearly felt sick. _They will not touch you lest the feel the tang of death on their tongues._ He couldn't bite back the twinge of pain as he remembered Achilles' words. He would die, Thetis had told him. And Patroclus could not stop it from happening. 

They had sneaked away then, Patroclus desperate to wash the thoughts from his head. They'd plunged into warm topaz waters, shedding their tunics before.

Achilles splashed at Patroclus, his laughter filling the air and Patroclus never wanted it to stop. He'd splashed back and pulled Achilles to him. Achilles smiled then - his face lighting up to drive out all the shadows. _Achilles. Everywhere. In my bones, my veins._

Achilles took Patroclus' face in his hands - strong hands made for fighting but nimble enough to play Patroclus' mothers lyre.

"Promise me," he looked serious and Patroclus' smile faded as he tilted his head to the side.

"What shall I promise you?,"  he made a trail of kisses under Achilles' jaw as he spoke. _Salt, the faint smell of fresh figs._

"Promise me that if something should happen to me, you will not follow. I will wait for you as long as it takes," Achilles pulled away then.

Patroclus hesitated before he said with downcast eyes, "I promise." 

He pressed his back against Achilles' chest and felt his arms wrap around him. Somehow the water no longer held promises of redemption.

"We will always have this," he promised.

Achilles buried his head in Patroclus' shoulder, he wanted to wrap his entire body around him - to keep him safe. Wanted to breathe him in, memorize the way his skin tasted on his tongue, how his eyes grew darker with every brush of Achilles' skin against his own, how he looked with water dripping off of his skin, his hair.

"Always,"  Patroclus echoed.

 _If you make it out alright_  
_If you make it up for air_  
_I promise you, I won't go_  
_(I won't leave before)_  
_Before the sun gets to rise_

_I won't go._

 

Fig trees, topaz water, salt on Achilles' skin, strong bronze arms holding him close, the smell of fresh herbs and sand. They would always choose one another over life itself, they would always have _this._

 

_I won't go, not without you._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this turned out to have some angst in it and foreshadowing. Lyrics in the summary are "Lesser Things" by Barcelona.


End file.
